When the walking party returned home they found a crowd of idle servants assembled opposite the house, round a group of equipages, consisting of two enormous crimson carriages, a britzska, and a large caravan, on all which vehicles the same coat of arms was ostentatiously blazoned.

“Some new guests!” said Miss Fane.

“It must be the singular party that we watched this morning in the bazaar,” said Lady Madeleine. “Violet! I have such a curious character to introduce you to, a particular friend of Mr. Grey, who wishes very much to have the honour of your acquaintance, MR. ESSPER GEORGE.”

“These carriages, then, belong to him?”

“Not exactly,” said Vivian.

In an hour’s time, the party again met at dinner in the saloon. By the joint exertions of Ernstorff and Mr. St. George’s servants, the Baron, Vivian, and the Chevalier de Boeffleurs were now seated next to the party of Lady Madeleine Trevor.

“My horses fortunately arrived from Frankfort this morning,” said the Baron. “Mr. St. George and myself have been taking a ride very far up the valley. Has your Ladyship yet been to the Castle of Nassau?”

“We have not. The expedition has been one of those plans often arranged and never executed.”

“You should go. The ruin is one of the finest in Germany. An expedition to Nassau Castle would be a capital foundation for a pic-nic. Conceive a beautiful valley, discovered by a knight, in the middle ages, following the track of a stag. How romantic! The very incident vouches for its sweet seclusion. Cannot you imagine the wooded mountains, the old grey ruin, the sound of the unseen river? What more should we want, except agreeable company, fine music, and the best provisions, to fancy ourselves in Paradise?”

“I wish the plan were practicable,” said Mr. St. George.

“I take the whole arrangement upon myself; there is not a difficulty. The ladies shall go on donkeys, or we might make a water excursion of it part of the way, and the donkeys can meet us at the pass near Stein, and then the gentlemen may walk; and if you fear the water at night, why then the carriages may come round: and if your own be too heavy for mountain roads, my britzska is always at your command. You see there is not a difficulty.”

“Not a difficulty,” said Mr. St. George. “Madeleine, we only wait your consent.”

“I think we had better put off the execution of our plan till June is a little more advanced. We must have a fine summer night for Violet.”

“Well, then, I hold the whole party present engaged to follow my standard, whenever I have permission from authority to unfold it,” said the Baron, bowing to Lady Madeleine: “and lest, on cool reflection, I shall not possess influence enough to procure the appointment, I shall, like a skilful orator, take advantage of your feelings, which gratitude for this excellent plan must have already enlisted in my favour, and propose myself as Master of the Ceremonies.” The Baron’s eye caught Lady Madeleine’s as he uttered this, and something like a smile, rather of pity than derision, lighted up her face.

Here Vivian turned round to give some directions to an attendant, and to his annoyance found Essper George standing behind his chair.

“Is there anything you want, sir?”

“Who ordered you here?”

“My duty.”

“In what capacity do you attend?”

“As your servant, sir.”

“I insist upon your leaving the room directly.”

“Ah! my friend, Essper George,” said Lady Madeleine, “are you there? What is the matter?”

“This, then, is Essper George!” said Violet Fane. “What kind of being can he possibly be? What indeed is the matter?”

“I am merely discharging a servant at a moment’s warning, Miss Fane; and if you wish to engage his constant attendance upon yourself, I have no objection to give him a character for the occasion.”

“What do you want, Essper?” said Miss Fane.

“Merely to see whether your walk this morning had done your appetites any good,” answered Essper, looking disconsolate; “and so I thought I might make myself useful at the same time. And though I do not bring on the soup in a cocked hat, and carve the venison with a couteau-de-chasse,” continued he, bowing very low to Ernstorff, who, standing stiff behind his master’s chair, seemed utterly unaware that any other person in the room could experience a necessity; “still I can change a plate or hand the wine without cracking the first, or drinking the second.”

“And very good qualities, too!” said Miss Fane. “Come, Essper, you shall put your accomplishments into practice immediately; change my plate.”

This Essper did with dexterity and quiet, displaying at the same time a small white hand, on the back of which was marked a comet and three daggers. As he had the discretion not to open his mouth, and performed all his duties with skill, his intrusion in a few minutes was not only pardoned but forgotten.

“There has been a great addition to the visitors to-day, I see,” said Mr. St. George. “Who are the new comers?”

“I will tell you all about them,” said the Baron. “This family is one of those whose existence astounds the Continent much more than any of your mighty dukes and earls, whose fortunes, though colossal, can be conceived, and whose rank is understood. Mr. Fitzloom is a very different personage, for thirty years ago he was a journeyman cotton spinner. Some miraculous invention in machinery entitled him to a patent, which has made him one of the great proprietors of England. He has lately been returned a member for a manufacturing town, and he intends to get over the first two years of his parliamentary career by successively monopolising the accommodation of all the principal cities of France, Germany, Switzerland, and Italy, and by raising the price of provisions and post-horses through a track of five thousand miles. My information is authentic, for I had a casual acquaintance with him in England. There was some talk of a contract for supplying our army from England, and I saw Fitzloom often on the subject. I have spoken to him to-day. This is by no means the first of the species that we have had in Germany. I can assure you that the plain traveller feels seriously the inconvenience of following such a caravan; their money flows with such unwise prodigality that real liberality ceases to be valued; and many of your nobility have complained to me that in their travels they are now often expostulated with on account of their parsimony, and taunted with the mistaken extravagance of a stocking-maker or a porter-brewer.”

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